Requiem of Grief
by Sakura Namida
Summary: A wrap up for Tony and Ziva. I cried writing it, so you'll probably cry too. Talks a lot about Ziva and Tali. Oneshot. Please enjoy!


For Home. For Family.

The memories came flooding in as he walked through the final hallways and out the door of the NCIS building for the last time. Memories of Gibbs, McGee, Abbey, Ducky, Palmer. And Ziva. A lot of memories of Ziva. Battles fought. Crimes solved. Losses and victories both. He remembered fondly some of their better moments, both as a team and as a family. He remembered Ziva's smile. His chest ached. It was an ache that was becoming familiar.

There was a lot of pain. The wound still felt too fresh, the grief threatened to overwhelm him. If he didn't have such a poignant reminder of her waiting for him at home, he might have let it consume him entirely. But he did, and Tali needed her father to be there for her. Father. The word felt alien. Anthony Dinozzo had long ago given up the idea of becoming a father. He'd become an agent and suddenly the family life seemed…less important. Even when he'd had his…farewell with Ziva, he'd never even contemplated the idea that they would have a child.

Yet here he was. A father. A single father with a daughter he barely knew. And he loved her more fiercely than he'd ever dreamed possible. As much as he'd loved her mother, for sure.

His dad was still with her when he got back home. They were curled up on the couch watching a cartoon of some kind. Tali was sound asleep in her granddaddy's lap. It brought a smile to his face.

"Where will you go?" His father asked, his voice a practiced softness.

"Tel Aviv first." He said, settling down into the empty recliner. "And then I thought maybe Paris."

Tel Aviv was for Tali. Paris was for him. A chance to really let himself grieve, and to remember the good times.

His father nodded patiently. "Do you want me to come?"

Tony shook his head. "I need to do this alone." He needed to learn to be Tali's father, and while he had no doubt he was going to need a lot of guidance in the coming years, he knew that there were some things he had to do on his own too. This, grieving, was one of those things.

They left a few days later. His father promised to keep an eye on his apartment. Tony had vague regrets about that particular decision, but in the end he decided things like that didn't matter much anymore. A lot of things that might have once bothered him no longer mattered.

Women at the airport cooed and awed at Tali, and he felt their eyes on him. Once he might have wanted their attention. Now he dreaded it. He practically pulled Tali away from every woman who stepped within five feet. Tali, her mother's daughter, took it all in stride. She didn't cry. Not once, and after Tony told her they were going home, she started talking in Hebrew about Ima. He could physically feel his heart shattering in his chest. She thought she was going home to see her mother. How the hell was he supposed to explain to his daughter that she was never going to see her mother again, when he himself couldn't accept it?

Oh he knew he was being an idiot. He fell asleep on the plane, and his dream revolved around Ziva, around him finding her again. Her being alive, safe. Her explaining why the hell she'd decided to keep the fact that he had a daughter from him. His anger at her for that only made the grief stronger though, and he woke to find tears streaming down his face. Ziva was dead. And he was the only one left to care for their daughter.

Still. There'd been no body. No solid evidence for him to lay his hands on, no one to rage at that the woman he loved was gone. And god did he love her. He wanted to go back in time to the last time he'd seen her and change everything. Knowing what he did now, knowing that they could have had a beautiful life together. The regret would haunt him for the rest of his life.

They touched down around midnight. Tali was sound asleep. He carried her in his arms, doing everything humanly possibly not to jostle the girl awake. He checked them into a hotel a little ways from the airport and tucked her into bed. He sat on the bed and stared at her, seeking out every feature that belonged to her mother, because he needed that reassurance, that even though the woman he loved was gone, he would always have their daughter to remember her by.

It wasn't nearly enough, the connections, the memories. The grief raged through him, and instead of fighting it, he just let himself feel it. The tears were hard and hot, and he dreaded the thought of Tali waking up to him crying, but he knew that he had to let Ziva go, because their daughter needed him and he couldn't drag the past into her life too.

He found Orli and her guards waiting for him outside the hotel the following morning. She offered to watch the young girl so that he could go and see the truth for himself. It took everything he had to refuse. The thought of his daughter walking away from him with someone else was too much for him to bear. And he didn't want to see the place where Ziva'd died.

"There will be services in two days." Orli informed him, seemingly not surprised by his decision. "I will send an escort to bring you. Until then, Mr. Dinozzo." Mr. Not agent. It sounded strange to his ears, to not be "Agent Dinozzo." She and her guards left, and he and Tali walked the city.

Although Ziva was still gone, he found her in little moments, little things that Tali did that would set his heart on fire as memories resurfaced. They walked the city and he remembered brief snatches of previous visits here. He remembered Ziva, and her talking about her sister Tali, and her father. Tony wondered wryly if Eli David would have ever accepted him as a son-in-law. He doubted it, and he couldn't really blame the man.

He found himself making notes of things that he knew he would have to teach Tali as she grew older. He was not Jewish himself, but he knew that Tali deserved to grow up understanding her mother's faith, even if she didn't necessarily share it. He made note that he would have to enroll her in martial arts classes and make sure that she still retained her knowledge of Hebrew. And French. She was definitely going to know French. Ziva was gone, but he would make damned sure she was never forgotten.

It wasn't a happy time. No, Tony doubted he'd be truly happy ever again. Maybe twenty or thirty years from now when Tali was all grown and happy and safe with a family of her own. For now he was…he was acclimating. He loved his daughter, and the more time he spent with her, the more that certainty became the only thing holding him together.

They were passing by a jewelry shop in a nice part of the city when he saw the two rings sitting in the display window. Wedding rings. Want ripped through him. He wanted to marry Ziva. Wanted to make her his, to hold her and cherish her and tell her that she was the only one who would ever matter to him.

It was the largest impulse buy he ever made, but he never regretted it for a moment. The jewelry seller seemed to sense his situation and handed over the rings with no fuss. He placed the larger thicker band on his own finger and looped the other one through a chain to give to Tali when she got older. He could give it to her future husband, perhaps. He'd considered letting her wear it now, alongside her Star of David, but he decided that it wasn't quite time yet, so he pocketed the second ring and they went off in search of an ice cream stand.

They went to a synagogue later that afternoon, and as Tali lay curled in his lap sound asleep, he silently said the wedding vows to himself, knowing without a sliver of a doubt that he would never break them. He belonged to Ziva. Always and forever.

The funeral was everything Ziva would have hated. Well, he certainly hated it. He hated bringing his daughter to that place of death and disquiet, but he knew she had every right to say goodbye to her mother, at least in spirit. He hated the way his heart broke as he got down on one knee and tried to patiently explain to his daughter that she was never going to see her mother again. He hated how the tears fell from his eyes as she realized the truth of his words. He hated every single second of that day. He hated that Ziva had been taken from him, from them both.

They left for Paris the next day. Tali was somber and quiet, but she didn't seem to hate him, so he supposed not all was lost. Orli had promised to always be there if they ever needed anything. She made him promise to bring her back to visit as often as he could. He'd assured her he would. And as a parting gift, she'd given him the lands that had reverted to Ziva on her father's death. Technically they were Tali's now, so he decided he'd put them into a trust for the girl when she grew older. It was one item of many on an ever-growing list.

Paris was still Paris. It was beautiful and enchanting, but in a distant sort of way. It occurred to him as he showed Tali the Eiffel Tower that perhaps the reason he'd loved Paris so much before was because he'd had Ziva with him, because he'd had those memories and they'd been untainted by pain.

He took Tali to the restaurant where they'd met up that morning. He promised to take her on a motorbike ride through the city when she was older, just as he had with her mother. And he would gather up as much video footage and as many pictures of her as he could find, because there was no way he could ever allow her to forget what her mama looked like.

He grieved alone at night while Tali slept. He cried so many silent tears he was sure he'd be dehydrated. He didn't mind. It felt cathartic. Better to get this all out now, before Tali was old enough to really understand his grief. They would definitely be coming back to Paris too.

After everything that had happened, he hadn't given much thought as to what he would do next, what kind of work he would pick up. He vaguely understood that he should sell his apartment and start searching for a house somewhere so that Tali could have a yard to run around in. The logistical questions of such a move seemed beyond him, most days. He'd need a sitter or a daycare, a safer car and car seat. He'd need to purchase all new furniture and make sure that Tali had plenty of clothes to keep her warm in the frigid D.C. winters.

He decided that Ziva wouldn't mind, him raising their daughter in D.C., it'd been her home too. And much their family was still there. He didn't work at NCIS anymore, but Tali would know them all the same.

He phoned his father the night before they left to return to D.C. to tell him they'd be home soon. When they finally again touched American soil, he expected to find his father.

He hadn't anticipated Abbey, Palmer, McGee, and Bishop too. The five rushed to them and wrapped him and his precious cargo in much needed hugs. Tali latched onto Abbey and it made his whole world feel brighter, to know that he wasn't really alone.

"Whenever you need a babysitter, you just let me know, okay, Tony?" Abbey said, hugging little Tali tightly. "Yeah, and if you ever need advice about food or whatever, I'm right here." Palmer agreed. McGee assured him that he'd be available to help out in whatever way he needed. Tony didn't bother to hid the tears of gratitude.

He got a call from NCIS director Vance the next day, asking for him to visit. He did, and he brought Tali with him, leaving the child in Abbey's capable hands while he made his way up to the director's office.

"Dinozzo." Vance greeted. There was a shared experience between them now. Single fathers. A mutual respect.

"Director Vance." Anthony echoed.

"Tali's citizenship papers came in." The director explained, pulling an envelope from his desk. He handed it to Tony. "Dual citizenship, by Ziva's request."

Tony swallowed hard, and nodded, not trusting himself to speak. "Thank you." He said, after a very long moment. He gripped the paper and turned to leave.

"There's one more thing." Vance said. "A job opened up in the JAG office that I think you'd be perfect for. A nice and cushy desk job. Eight to five, five days a week. Fantastic benefits." Dinozzo was speechless.

"Should I tell them you're interested?" Vance asked, smiling.

Tony nodded.

"Consider it done. You should be getting a phone call here in a couple of days. Oh, and if you ever need a last minute babysitter, let me know." Tony thanked the man and left, admittedly dazed.

He headed down to Abbey's office to retrieve his daughter, only to find her and her erstwhile babysitter gone. A mild panic set in, a fatherly instinct, no doubt.

His mind ran through the logical possibilities until he realized he knew exactly where they were.

It was a real party going on down in autopsy. Tali was surrounded by Abbey and Palmer, being entertained by Ducky and being watched over by Gibbs. He caught his former boss's eye. Again, that same understanding, that same respect. The grieved father.

"Abba!" Tali called. His heart caught in his throat. She'd only recently started calling him that, and every time it threatened to overturn all of the stability he'd managed to find.

She wiggled in Abbey's arms as the forensic scientist set the little girl down. Her little toddler legs propelled her across the room and into his arms. It was the best hug he'd gotten in a very long time.

"Were you a good little girl for Auntie Abbey, Tali?" He asked.

She nodded enthusiastically. "Thanks for everything." He told them all. The smiles they returned said it all. No thanks needed. She was as much a part of their family as Ziva had always been.

All told it took him three months to sell his apartment and find a nice house in the suburbs for him and Tali, set up a baby-sitter and get comfortable in his new job. The hardest part of it, he found, was leaving Tali each morning. She'd cried the first few days. He'd almost cried too, truth be told. But as the days went on and they settled into a routine, she seemed to adjust a little better every day. She was also adding more English words to her vocabulary, which made him smile.

Grandad visited whenever he could, which was far more often than Tony had anticipated. And Friday nights had somehow become a weekly dinner with everyone from NCIS. He'd never planned for it, but he was glad for it all the same.

Time passed by faster than he'd ever imagined it could. The pain of Ziva's passing was always still fresh in his memory, but it hurt a little less each day and he was confident that one day he would be able to function without the shooting ache in his heart. Another couple of weeks and it would be a year since he'd first met her. He wasn't sure how to handle the situation, but Abbey had suggested they throw the little girl a party, something with games and gifts to help her not dwell on the grief of her mother's passing. He didn't have any better ideas, so he agreed willingly enough.

Content to leave the details to the consummate party-planner-goth, Tony tried to go about his days without focusing too hard on the realization that it would soon be a year since Ziva's death. The closer that day came, the harder it was for him to function. He found himself getting irritable and frustrated at every little thing. Some days he really had to work to keep his mood from not affecting Tali.

It was a Thursday night. McGee showed up on his doorstep and said he wanted to take Tali out for ice cream and a movie. Tony almost said no, until McGee handed him a note in the unmistakable handwriting of Leroy Jethro Gibbs. "What is it?" He'd asked.

McGee had shrugged and said he was just the messenger. Then he'd scooped little Tali into his arms and absconded with his daughter.

The address on the note led him to a graveyard. In a way it was the last place he wanted to be, but in others, he understood why his former boss had brought him there.

Gibbs was standing above one large headstone. Tony didn't have to be close to know who it belonged to.

"How do you do it?" Tony asked.

Gibbs didn't answer for a long time. Tony started to wonder if the man had heard him at all.

And then: "There's no secret, if that's what you're hoping for. No magical advice that will make the ache go away or the rage feel less suffocating. You keep doing what you've always done, Tony. You keep your head up and you keep moving forward. Respect her memory, cherish the times you had together, and then try to find some of that joy in the moment."

Tony nodded. He'd hoped there would be an answer out there somewhere, some way to make the days less draining, make the grief less all-consuming. But no, he was beginning to see, this grief was a part of him now. It was a defining section of who he was. He was a widower.

Tali's party began promptly at 11 on a Saturday afternoon. Not the exact one-year anniversary, but that was probably for the best. Everyone from NCIS managed to come, much to Tony's surprise, and they all brought the little girl gifts.

Over the past year everyone had gone out of their way to bring him and Tali stories of Ziva or pictures, videos, whatever could be found. He thanked them profusely for it, but had requested that today the gifts be other things. Toys and games, things that Tali could use to distract herself and to learn and grow. The girl lived with the weight of her mother's death every day of her life, she needed one day a year to not think about it.

So that's what they did, they played childish games and laughed. Not just Tali, but Tony too. He'd never seen his daughter laugh so much. And of course they caught as much of the day on film as possible. He wanted these precious memories recorded for future viewing. Stored up like his savings for a rainy day.

The party didn't end until well after midnight, though his precious daughter had passed out hours before. No seemed to be in any hurry to leave, and he wasn't in a hurry to make them go. Tonight more than ever, he needed his family.

They told funny stories, embarrassing stories. They talked about crazy cases and reminisced about stupid stunts and tricks. The talk of Ziva was respectful, praising, cheerful. No one went out of their way to bring her up, but no one ignored her either. Gone though she was, she was still a part of the team. Would always be a part of their team.

On Tali's Eighteenth birthday he finally gave her the ring that matched his and explained the truth behind it. She'd understood, and thanked him. How much she looked like her mother. Anthony Dinozzo was a far wiser man, and had lived with his grief long enough not to let it control him. But that day he cried.

Her birthday party was filled with her friends from school and everyone from NCIS, people who had always found a way to be a part of her life, even as their own took them on different paths. Gibbs had _finally_ retired from NCIS about five years back and had given his position to McGee, who now had a team of his own to run. Abbey still worked in her crime lab, too happy with her job to ever think of doing anything else. Palmer had eventually moved into the private sector so that he could have more time with his wife and children, but he had always made it a point to stay connected with everyone he'd known from NCIS. Vance stepped down as director not long after Gibbs retired, echoing Palmer's sentiments. Tony attributed the move to a recent attack that had targeted heads of law enforcement and those in senior positions such as his. Ducky too had retired, about two years after Tony left NCIS. He lived in a comfortable neighborhood nearby and was instrumental in seeing to it that Tali got good grades. He'd also managed to instill a passion for healing in his daughter, who was now seriously considering a path in the medical field. Bishop took a higher up position in NCIS and was now in line to be the next director, much to the woman's shock and terror. Tony knew she could handle it, though.

Tali was just like her mother. Instinctive, passionate, a born fighter, but tempered enough to want to help people more than hurt them. She'd taken to the krav maga classes he signed her up for like a bird to the sky, though she'd stumbled over languages for much of her younger years. Still, at last count she spoke four languages fluently and he trusted her to handle herself well in a fight.

She would be leaving for college in a month or so. Tony was floundering at the idea. The last decade and a half had been about her, and now he didn't know what he was supposed to do. She'd joked that he'd needed to get a better hobby. He'd smiled and played along as she'd tried to pick one for him. Woodworking, they'd decided, like Grandpa Gibbs.

Aunt Abbey was instrumental in making his daughter's birthdays, all of her parties, a success. Tony had taken to telling the bubbly goth that she'd be better served going into party planning.

They returned to Paris every couple of years, and Tel Aviv yearly. She would be able to take control of her trust fund soon, though she'd assured him she wanted him to keep managing the property while she focused on school.

Tali loved Paris, Tony did too, though his pocketbook did not. The little café he and Ziva had once stayed at had become her favorite place in the whole city and they went there every day they were in the city. Tel Aviv was her second home. They often stayed for a least a month so that Tali could be as familiar and comfortable with her Motherland as she was with DC.

For the first few years he'd been reluctant to talk of Ziva, because he hadn't wanted to dredge up unnecessary pain or cause her or himself more pain, but eventually he'd realized that his daughter had a right to understand her mother. He'd kept it simple and light, funny stories, things like that. When she'd asked how they'd met he told her. It became their tradition for valentine's day, he would take her out to a place nearby, often one he'd once visited with Ziva and then spend the whole night telling his daughter of her mother. It didn't matter if the stories were repeated a thousand times, he still told them, because she still asked for them.

Tony kept his vows. He never remarried. Never really met another woman he was interested in. On very rare occasions he went out on dates, but they were always bland and he never went on a second. After Ziva, it was as if they were all pale in comparison. Which, he had to admit to himself, they were. Tali often asked why he never tried to date anyone, and he told her the honest truth. She'd accepted that, and had even seemed grateful that her mother was still so important.

Tali graduated medical school at the top of her class. He'd never been so proud in his life. He had faith that his daughter would do great things for the world. He was sure Ziva would agree. Abbey and McGee certainly did. He'd never heard Abbey scream so loud in his life, at her graduation.

Tony was getting older. He'd be sixty-five soon. Some days he could hardly believe how fast the time had seemed to fly by. Ziva was in his mind, every morning when he woke he ached for her and every night when he went to bed he prayed that she would keep watching over their daughter. The days where the grief consumed him completely were rare now. But they still came. He knew from long experience that he would be dreaming of her tonight.

He still lived in DC and worked too, though he was starting to seriously consider retirement. Tali had found herself a young man. He approved of her choice, for the most part. The man was an honest soul and he loved his daughter with a whole-hearted passion that Tony respected. He knew that there would probably be an engagement any day now.

On her wedding day Abbey had taken the place of mother of the bride, with both his and Tali's blessing. He knew Ziva wouldn't object. He'd walked her down the aisle and hadn't minded when the tears had come streaming down his face. There were happy tears mixed in. And he knew that Ziva was smiling down on them.

He'd never thought it could be so hard to let go, but as he watched his precious daughter leave with her new husband, he felt an ache and loneliness that he'd never prepared for. As happy as he was, the grief couldn't be ignored. He missed his wife, the love of his life, and he knew he always would.


End file.
